CHAPTER 101: HIS GREATEST SUPPORT

Aldric stood, brushing invisible dust from his coat. Overall, he was satisfied with the way things were moving, though one detail made his chest tighten.

For years, he’d assumed Leroy’s refusal to learn sign language was pure indifference. But now, watching him, Aldric realized it was something else entirely. Leroy had always known the princess could speak. He simply refused to meet her in the middle because he wanted her to choose to speak to him, wanted to hear her voice, wanted her words.

Two people locked in the same stalemate.

The prince unwilling to yield first. The princess, unwilling or unable, to unlock the door she kept shut.

What stubborn fools. And yet... perhaps it wasn’t time for either to surrender.

"If you want to sit here daydreaming about tormenting the princess, you’d better stay alive to do it," Aldric said, heading for the door. "And clean this disaster of a room."

"Wouldn’t my wife have already found a way to protect me?" Leroy asked, his mouth curving in a boyish grin that didn’t match the weight in his eyes.

There it was again, that quiet, unshakable faith. He had someone on his side. Someone who would catch him if he fell. He’d never find the right words to express how much that meant to him.

"Do not take her for granted," Aldric warned, glancing back. "She might let you die if it solved enough problems. You won’t survive her jealousy. Keep mistresses and you won’t have to worry about assassins. Your wife will finish the job herself."

Leroy laughed, but the sound was softer than before. He knew his wife wouldn’t do that. She couldn’t even let him lose his hair. She would never let him die. Also, she was the "mistress" he was sleeping with. So, why should he worry. But Aldric was right. "I cannot die," he said under his breath.

Because if he did, she would be thrown to the wolves, and her life would revert back to the one she had back in her father’s mansion. He wouldn’t let that happen.

Still, the thought lodged like a splinter. She avoided him, skirted around his questions even when he asked the "divina", and she had wrapped herself in her secrets. She could smile at him like he was her whole world and still keep the truth locked away.

Why was she running from him? And why, despite the pain curling in his gut, did he still want to chase her?

"What do you know about the first Dragon King and his queen?" Leroy asked.

He’d overheard that other prince speaking to Lorraine about them—old legends wrapped in too much mirth to be taken seriously. She had laughed it off, but something in the tilt of Damian’s eyes told him there was more beneath the surface.

Aldric stopped mid-step, turning to eye him. "You want to waste time chasing fairy tales now?"

Leroy held his gaze for a long, unblinking moment before giving a slow, deliberate nod.

Aldric exhaled, shaking his head as if dismissing both the question and the man who asked it. "I’m leaving. Truly, this time." He strode out without another word.

The door shut, and the room seemed to shift. Leroy’s expression shadowed, all warmth drained away. His gaze swept to the stacks of neglected clutter, where, hidden between false ledgers and dust-heavy scrolls, lay the books he didn’t want anyone to know he owned.

His fingers brushed the spine of the nearest one. There was more to that story. And he intended to find it.

-----

In the morning of the ceremony, after training, Leroy went to check the flower patch he’d been tending. He had chosen marigolds, told they would bloom soon. The plants were thriving, leaves lush and green, and—was that a bud? Or just another leaf? Perhaps it was still too soon for flowers.

A familiar chirp greeted him. The little sparrow that visited every morning was back, hopping closer on nimble feet. Ever since he’d begun bringing grains, it had started to recognize him—chirping brighter, watching him with those sharp, bead-like eyes.

That day, Leroy placed the grains in his open palm, curious to see if it would dare come closer. The sparrow skipped forward, feathers quivering, eyes glinting like specks of sunlight... but stopped short, just out of reach.

He sighed and tossed the grains near him instead. Let it come to me slowly.

It was the same with his wife. One day, she would trust him enough to draw close. One day, she would speak the truth to him without fear.

-----

Lorraine woke with a sharp gasp. The sunlight still clung to the horizon—she’d only slept a few hours. No matter; there was too much work left to do.

At last, the pieces had fallen into place. She knew who and how

they planned to kill Leroy.

Gathering the scattered papers from her desk, she fed them into the fireplace, watching ink curl into smoke. The final orders had already been sent. If her plan worked, the stage was set.

When Sylvia entered, Lorraine handed her the written outline.

Sylvia’s eyes flew wide as she read. "You... you’re certain about this?"

Lorraine’s gaze stayed steady.

"All because of a guard courting a high-ranked courtesan," Sylvia muttered, half in disbelief. That one detail had unlocked the rest—Lorraine had traced the thread through seemingly unrelated events, until the whole scheme lay exposed.

Sylvia swallowed hard. "But there’s no plan to stop it! We should tell the Prince. Or Sir Al. If we—"

"If we alert them, they’ll simply change tactics," Lorraine cut in, voice cool but taut. "This is the only way to protect him—for now."

The truth sat heavy between them. Sylvia knew the risk. If the plan failed, the prince could die. But if they stopped it outright, there might be another attempt—one they couldn’t predict in time.

Emma entered then, carrying a gown and glittering jewels. The day’s ceremony was grand enough that the princess would usually prepare, whether or not the prince brought her.

"I’m not getting ready," Lorraine said flatly.

Emma blinked. "But—"

"He won’t take me," Lorraine murmured, eyes on her untouched tea. He hasn’t even looked at me these days.

Emma faltered, but Sylvia’s slight shake of the head kept her quiet.

Lorraine was just finishing breakfast when a knock sounded. Emma opened the door—and froze.

"Yo-Your High—" she stammered.

Lorraine rose slowly, her pulse quickening.

And in the morning light, Leroy stood there, in his ceremonial regalia, gold glittering, and... very much not on his way out.

What is he doing here?